


Wouldn't You Like to See Something Strange

by onward_came_the_meteors



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Chaptered, Dimension Travel, Gen, Halloween, Horror, Major Character Injury, Monsters, POV Third Person, POV Tony Stark, Rated For Violence, Ratings: PG, Scary, Team Dynamics, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 10:24:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21251858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onward_came_the_meteors/pseuds/onward_came_the_meteors
Summary: "I don't think this is our town anymore."Tony Stark's Halloween plan to watch bad horror movies with the other Avengers goes wrong when they find themselves transported to a dark and twisted other world. Now they have to find a way to stay alive... while being chased by bloodthirsty monsters.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween!

After sitting in the restaurant for fifteen minutes, Tony Stark decided that he was going to be smelling pepperoni-and-sausage pizza for the rest of his life. 

Ordinarily, he would have no complaints about this fact. There had been many a day (or several consecutive days, or, okay, a week) where he had essentially lived on pizza and coffee while barricading himself in his workshop. But, see, those times he was actually allowed to eat the pizza. Not just sit and wait and hope the others arrived soon. 

Because obviously, he would never do something as rude as to just order the darn pizza, eat it, and then pretend he hadn't once the others got there. No sir. The thought wouldn't even cross his mind. 

Another customer lifted the cardboard cover of their square-shaped box, releasing another wave of of greasy dough and cheese scent into the air. Collecting their change from the bored college kid behind the counter, they were quick to leave. 

If only. Tony tapped his fingers against the tabletop. His phone was very temptingly in his pocket, but he resisted the urge to check the time again. He couldn't really blame the others for being late (if they were late, that is--which he wouldn't find out because he was not going to check the time) after all, he had sprung the idea on them last-minute.

Or in other words, about an hour ago when he'd noticed the date on the screen in the corner of his phone and realized: hey--today is Halloween. 

Normally, he would have said "how about that" and called it a day--maybe put a little hat or something on DUM-E if he was really inspired--but then he'd thought about the other Avengers. 

(At least the ones who were on Earth; Thor was taking his off-brand Shakespeare act on the space road)

The other Avengers, who probably hadn't done anything in the way of celebrating Halloween in years, if ever. 

(Unless they had costume parties at S.H.I.E.L.D., which Tony would pay to see) 

And yeah, they were adults, and maybe Halloween didn't matter so much once you no longer fit into the Ninja Turtles costume, but Tony had concluded that the thought of none of them doing anything for Halloween would follow him for the rest of the day if he didn't do something about it. 

Without spending more than five seconds on it, he'd sent out a text: "The Avengers are doing the Halloween thing," followed by the address of the pizza place. 

Because honestly, could any of them have planned anything better than cheap-pizza-followed-by-dumb-horror-movies-back-at-the-Tower? 

No. No, they could not. Which was why Tony had taken it upon himself to improve everybody's Halloween. 

Now all the other Avengers had to do was show up. 

One of the workers--in a cap printed with the garish orange logo of the pizza place--appeared behind his shoulder. 

"I'm just waiting for some friends," Tony said without bothering to look up. Maybe he should have picked the location of pizza-obtaining more carefully--there were probably a dozen places like this within five blocks, but he'd vaguely remembered Pepper ordering from here once. 

"What a coincidence," the worker said--in a familiar voice that made Tony whip his head around. "I'm meeting some friends too." 

Natasha Romanoff stepped around the table and slid into one of the seats, the cap perched on her red curls. 

Tony couldn't even be annoyed. He just nodded toward the college kid behind the counter. "Won't he notice his hat's missing?" 

Natasha grinned and pitched her voice in a lazy drawl. "What do you mean, his hat? This hat belongs to J.J. Bolton, college senior, football player, and part-time employee at Zello's Pizzeria. I'm sure someone like that would never let part of their uniform out of their sight, much less someone steal it." 

"You look like a football player." 

Her voice went back to normal. "I'll return it eventually." 

"Good. Can't let it get around that the Avengers are stealing from minimum-wage employees." Tony looked around the restaurant and the few occupants of the tables. Unless their skill with disguises was much better than he'd thought, none of the Avengers was a family with two kids or an African-American man in his fifties. "So where's Thing Two?" 

"Barton's outside." 

"Couldn't find a uniform to steal?" 

"He wanted to know if I was showing up first." 

Sure enough, a few moments later the bell jingled as the door was pushed open by a man in jeans and a black hoodie. Different from the archer gear Tony usually saw him in, but still Clint Barton.

Without bothering to say hi, Clint grabbed the chair next to Natasha's, surveying the room as he did so. "I didn't think this was your kind of joint, Stark." 

Tony spread his hands. "Come on, you've seen me at that shawarma place. Getting together just to eat a ton of terrible food is peak team bonding." 

"Is that what this is? No wonder we're the only ones here."

"Thor is on Asgard, we have to give him that," Natasha reminded him. She cocked her head at Tony. "What's the situation on Pepper?" 

"She said she had a meeting when I asked her," Tony answered, although truthfully he wouldn't blame her if she just wanted an excuse to not watch "The Twilight Zone" on the couch surrounded by pizza boxes and people who talked through movies. He'd make it up to her tomorrow. 

"So that leaves Cap and Banner," Clint stated. "What's the bet?" 

"Rogers yes, Banner… only if you pry him," Natasha said instantly. 

"Have some faith." Tony leaned around his chair to better see through the ad-covered windows at the front of the restaurant. Was that… yes, it was. The timing couldn't have been more perfect. 

The bell on the door jingled again, and Bruce Banner hurried into the pizza place, looking disheveled from the October wind outside. 

Tony waved him over to their table. "You owe me," he whispered to Natasha, who smirked.

"We never actually made wagers." 

"Cheater." Tony raised his voice as Bruce reached the table. "Hey there, gang's all here, and I think we can get our pizza now, what do you guys think?" 

"Tony--hi--actually, Steve--" Bruce started. 

"We've waited for him this long, and you know the captain's all about punctuality or whatever; if he was going to show up he probably would have--" 

"That's exactly--" 

"I'm for that," Clint announced. "This place's got bacon pizza, and if the Cap's not here, just means more for us." 

"Grab a seat, doctor," Natasha added to Bruce, gesturing to the empty chairs. 

Bruce did not sit down, but raised his voice to be heard over the others, and that's when Tony realized something was wrong. 

The exact moment when, if he could have turned back time, he would have erased. God knew it would have saved them all so much pain.

Those two words.

"Steve's outside." 

The three of them seated at the table seemed to blink at once. Predictably, Tony was the first to speak, though unpredictably, it was only one word.

"...what?" 

"Steve's outside," Bruce repeated. "And I don't know, but… you need to come see this." 

The bacon pizza and joking around was forgotten, and in less than three seconds Tony, Natasha, and Clint were out of their seats and at the door. 

"Hey, aren't you going to pick up your pizza?" the college kid called out half-heartedly. The only answer he received was Natasha flinging the stolen hat back at the counter. 

Her aim was perfect. Tony sensed the change in all of them, like a switch had been flipped. This was no longer a friendly get-together, not if a teammate was in danger.

This was Avengers business.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun was stretching its last few golden fingers between the apartment buildings that seemed to grow in this area. Above them, the sky was getting dark. Trick-or-treating would probably start soon, if it hadn't already, with protective parents ushering their children from apartment to apartment rather than go outside in the chilly night air.

But things like the time or the temperature flew out of Tony's mind as soon as he spotted Steve. 

Because he was outside. Across the street. His back to the pizza place. Standing in front of a gated park. Unmoving. 

"He's been standing there for at least ten minutes," Bruce said anxiously. "I couldn't get him to move." 

"Then let's see if the rest of us can convince him," Natasha said grimly. She was already crossing the street. Tony and the others hurried to follow her. 

When they reached the sidewalk, Steve should--by all rights--have known they were there. They weren't exactly being quiet and knowing when they were being followed or watched had become a basic necessity for all the Avengers. 

But he didn't react. Just kept staring out into the park, not two feet away from the iron fence encircling it. He could have been a statue, if the wind hadn't been blowing his scarf so that it flapped in the air. 

"Cap," Tony started, stepping right up close to him. "Cap!" 

"Rogers?" Natasha tried. 

"Maybe if someone clapped their hands together right in front of his face…?" Clint suggested, but at a look from Natasha, dropped his hands back down. 

Bruce shook his head. "I tried everything I could think of. He just won't respond." 

"Any idea how it could have happened?" Natasha's tone was businesslike, or trying to be. 

She and Bruce began discussing medical possibilities, Clint listening and occasionally chiming in with a "that happened to an agent in Moscow once" or "doesn't that only happen if you have schizophrenia?" 

Tony didn't join in. Not only because he wouldn't really be able to contribute much--his medical knowledge wasn't as extensive as theirs--he had a feeling that this was something different. He couldn't explain how. He felt cold just thinking about it. 

Carefully, he reached out a hand and placed it on Steve's shoulder. The second they touched, it was like a lightning bolt of pure ice had struck him in the heart. Tony jumped back, not bothering to stop himself from cursing out loud. 

Steve stood rigid, almost vibrating, like a kid's toy that had just been turned on… like he had been activated. Without even blinking his too-dilated eyes, he lurched forward and began climbing the fence.

"Whoa!" 

"Hey!" 

"Rogers, what are you doing?" 

Steve didn't acknowledge the others at all. With that supersoldier strength, he was over the fence in seconds, and sprinting across the park.

Tony swore again and grabbed the bars of the fence himself. God, the metal was freezing. He couldn't find a toehold. How had Steve fit his feet in here? 

"Come on, Stark!" Of course the secret agents were already over the darn fence. Clint had waited half a second, but it was wasting valuable time, and Natasha was already shooting after Steve's vanishing form like she'd been shot from a gun. 

Tony heaved himself over the fence, landing in the grassy park. Bruce was beside him. 

"Why are we just standing here?" Tony was half berating himself, even though there was no universe in which a man with an arc reactor powering his heart could catch up to a serum-enhanced superhero with a head start.

He started running anyway. So did Bruce. 

The wind sliced at exposed skin, the remaining rays of sunlight piercing through the surrounding buildings. Ahead of them, Steve was already gone, and Natasha and Clint were distant specks. 

As they ran, the terrain stopped being just grass. There were strange lumps protruding out of the ground, getting more and more numerous. Gray lumps, barely more than blurs as they ran past.

Gray… stone… lumps. 

Gravestones.

They were chasing Steve through a graveyard on Halloween night. 

I guess we didn't need to watch bad horror movies after all--we're living one. 

Tony just hoped that if this was a horror movie, it'd be the happy-ending kind. 

Running was harder now that he had to navigate through the gravestones, but fortunately he didn't have to for long. A little farther, a little farther--and there was Natasha and Clint, standing in a small semicircle of clear grassy space. 

Why had they stopped--why had they stopped-- 

But there was Steve, swaying slightly in the middle of the semicircle. His head was twisting back and forth, apparently trying to take in the surroundings. Out of that strange daze.

"What's going on?" Steve finally asked. He tried to turn, but his foot scraped against a gravestone behind him--a curiously blank one. He frowned at it and turned back to the others.

"What do you remember?" Bruce asked. 

Steve pressed his eyes shut, then opened them again. "I don't know. I think--I was reading a text? And then--I don't know. Why are we in a graveyard?" 

"We were hoping you would know," Tony said, shoving his hands in his pockets. The wind had picked up--and the temperature had seemed to drop about twenty degrees. "You're the one who brought us here." 

Steve stared at him. His mouth opened--maybe to protest, maybe to say that he didn't understand.

None of them ever found out what Steve would have said.

Because at that moment, the sun sank below the horizon. 

And everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

When Tony opened his eyes, he wasn't sure he had. He couldn't see anything. Couldn't hear. 

But slowly… slowly… he could feel. Feel something scratching against his face, like grains of sand or crumbled-up cookies or… dirt.

He was laying face-down in dirt. And once he realized this, he became aware of other sensations. One: he couldn't see because his face was pressed against the ground. Two: it was absolutely freezing. Three: he wasn't alone.

That last one seemed very important, so important that he braced his hands against the ground and sat up. Dirt fell off his face, and he impatiently dragged a sleeve across it to dislodge the rest. 

He stood up, dirt still falling from him like leaves from a tree. 

What just happened? 

He was still in the graveyard--the tombstones around him proved that. The sky was an ominous black, even though the sun had just set mere seconds ago. But the other four… nowhere to be found.

"Time to panic?" Tony muttered to himself, his hand already in his pocket reaching for his phone. But no sooner had the words left his mouth when he spotted a figure splayed out behind one of the gravestones.

He scrambled over. "Barton!" 

The figure--because it was indeed Clint Barton, and it was a true testament to the weirdness of the situation that Tony was actually happy to see him--groaned and got to his feet. 

"So where's the hidden camera?" The archer was bracing a hand on the nearest tombstone for balance, but he still managed to be sarcastic.

"Bad planning, right?" Tony let out a long breath as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and was greeted with a glaring "0% battery" signal. Even though he could swear it had been at 87% not five minutes earlier… "I mean, there's only two of us here, if whoever did this was going to give us sharp sticks and have us fight to the death, they could have gone for better options." 

Clint's eyes widened, but not because of him. "Nat's over there," he said, not bothering to point to the there in question because he was already moving, dodging gravestones to another limp form on the ground. 

Tony followed more cautiously, checking behind every gravestone--if all of them were here, he didn't want to miss them--so by the time he caught up, Natasha was already standing and digging for her own phone.

She looked at the screen and cursed under her breath, apparently just as battery-less as Tony. "All right… options," she said to the two of them. "No Steve and Bruce, no phones… weapons?" 

Tony shook his head at the same time Clint gave a single nod. Apparently Natasha had worked with him long enough that a nod was the equivalent of a full inventory, because she didn't ask for details. 

"What do you think we're dealing with this time?" Tony asked. "The usual schmucks trying to take down the mighty Avengers or something in the supernatural category?" 

"If it's garden-variety, they'd have to have drugged us," Natasha countered. "And if whatever got us also got the other two, it means they have access to drugs that can counteract super-serum, so… more unlikely." 

Not ruled out, though. Nothing could be really ruled out in scenarios like this. 

"But since it is just the three of us--" Tony started, but at that moment, two more figures straggled over. They were in about the same shape as the first three: disoriented, covered in dirt and no clue what was going on. 

An excellent title for the official Avengers biography, incidentally, if they ever made one. 

"Did you all pass out too?" Steve asked. Tony didn't know what was keeping him upright, serum or military training, but whatever it was must have been a heck of a lot to counteract going from whatever daze he had been under to getting slammed into the dirt and waking up… wherever they were. 

Where did that come from? he wondered as Natasha explained that yes, all of them had passed out, and now they were in a in-all-likelihood dangerous situation with no way to contact anyone else, and on and on, doom and gloom.

Tony didn't pay attention. He was too busy combing through his mind to figure out what had led him to the conclusion that they weren't in the graveyard anymore. 

That wouldn't make sense. How would five people get transported from one basic-graveyard-looking graveyard to an identical one? Why would anyone even want to do that? 

How could this place be anything but the same graveyard? 

Still, something felt off. Wrong. Like the quiet inhale of wind just before a huge gust swept out of nowhere to blow you three steps backward. 

This isn't the same graveyard, a niggling little voice insisted. 

How about you back that up with evidence, pea-brain? Tony thought back at it. Then he froze. 

"Why is there dirt?" he said, right in the middle of the discussion of just how many weapons the super-secret-agents had managed to jam down their socks.

Everyone looked at him, expressions ranging from confusion to bordering on annoyance.

"Why wouldn't there be dirt, we're outside," Clint said finally. 

"No, no--" Tony scuffed his shoes around. "Here. And here. This is all fresh dirt--before, there was grass growing here, and now it's like a bulldozer was just here and dug it all up." 

His heartbeat was a drum pounding in his ears. He had to be close, had to be close to knowing what was going on, knowing the reason why he was so on edge-- 

Bruce gasped. "Wait--"

"What? What is it?" Steve was already snapped to attention. 

Bruce pointed at one of the tombstones. A cloud had drifted away, leaving the light of the moon shining on the carved stone letters. "Why does this grave have your name on it?" 

That heartbeat thing Tony had supposedly had? Gone.

Because right there on the tombstone were the words Steve Rogers. 

The five of them turned as one, to the next tombstone: Natasha Romanoff.

The next: Bruce Banner.

Clint Barton. 

And, finally: Tony Stark. 

No, they were not in the same graveyard. 

"I don't think this is our town anymore," Natasha said, a shake in her voice despite the obvious attempt to be nonchalant. 

"I think we should get out of here," said Steve, always the leader even if who in the heck was prepared to lead when you were literally facing your own grave. 

Clint threw up his hands. "Great idea, but none of our training covers being transported into a low-budget horror movie!" 

"I object to that on the grounds that none of us are gullible high schoolers," Bruce murmured. 

Tony grinned for half a second. "You mean the type where they're all 'hey, Friday the 13th is the perfect time for a date night.'" 

"'Let's play predictable games that end up revealing dark secrets,'" Clint added. "'What is your greatest fear?'" 

"'Or we can always go for a romantic walk in the dark,'" continued Bruce. "'Of course, the graveyard at midnight is super sexy and not creepy, let's go there.'" 

"'I heard that he died right over there--'" Tony started, still in the fake voice, but Natasha interrupted. 

"I think Rogers's got a point." Her hand was at her belt, probably worrying the handle of some concealed weapon. "We should move." 

The other three sobered instantly. Nothing in their surroundings had changed… or had it? Still dark, still cold, still windy, still heavy with foreboding and whispers of something to come…

Something is coming, hissed that little voice. Tony was really coming to dislike it. 

Something is coming.

Steve went still. "Does anybody else hear that." 

He spoke in a remarkably calm tone of voice that made Tony think oh. We are. Screwed. 

"Please elaborate." Natasha slid a gun from her belt. Clint mirrored her. 

Tony instinctively stepped closer to Bruce and Steve, both of whom he knew were unarmed--at least in the traditional sense.

Because now he could hear it too. 

Faint at first--but growing by the second.

A roaring, rushing, mass like water bursting from a dam, a crowd that was running--no, charging--no, stampeding--towards them. The sound of hundreds of prisoners released from a prison, the sound of wild animals freed from a cage, or even Chitauri from a spaceship.

Shouting and screaming and growling and snapping and clawing and hundreds upon hundreds of pounding feet, and now Tony could see the beginnings of this crowd of oh-god-what-are-those-things at the edge of his vision, pouring from between gravestones through the dark.

"Yeah, we should go." Tony nodded about twenty times, every muscle in his body tensing up.

"I say we run. All together." Steve pointed to the left--to a black clump in the distance that revealed itself to be a forest, a freaking forest sprouting up in the outskirts of the graveyard.

"Scared?" His jibe lacked the usual energy, but oh-my-god-those-things-are-getting-closer--

Steve's reply was just as forced. "Nah, I don't get scared." He waved an arm behind him. "I'll cover you guys--" 

"I'll cover," Natasha countered, stepping in front of Steve. She aimed her gun at the approaching charge. 

"This can't be the zombie apocalypse," she muttered. "I'm not caught up on my favorite shows." 

"We should be running, we should be running, we should really be running," Bruce was repeating. He looked at Steve. So did Tony and Clint. 

Steve swallowed, staring at the oncoming hordes. Then he seemed to shake himself into action. "Right, run now!" 

Tony didn't need telling twice. He took off as fast as he could, outpaced in seconds by Steve, then Clint--probably Natasha too, if she hadn't been half-backwards, trying to move while staying behind everyone else. 

He couldn't let her get trampled because of him. "Forget the gun!" he yelled. Natasha whipped her head toward him for the briefest second, then back at the horde of things. He saw it in her eyes--she knew a gun wouldn't be enough. Not for this. 

Natasha turned and raced toward the forest after Steve and Clint. The three of them were so far ahead, and yet Tony knew they were still only going at what was--for them--a moderate pace, because the Avengers didn't leave people behind, gosh darn it, even though it would be the smart thing to do in this case--

Bruce was running beside him, and even he was slightly slowing himself down. Tony wanted to scream at them all, but he needed the breath for running--god, this arc reactor and the space it carved out of his chest, this was survival of the fittest, wasn't it, and here was nature judging him; nature, and not the machines and robots and suits that had always determined his life, spun it in a dome made of gears and wires, but now he was cut off… 

Bruce's wide eyes were reflected with the same thoughts, and it must have been the fear running high that made him slip out with "You won't make it the night." Said in fear. Always in fear. 

The forest was growing in the distance, but the horde behind them was gaining, gaining-- 

Tony sucked in a desperate breath, knowing it could be one of his last. 

"Watch me," he gasped out, and sprinted for the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

It was a miracle.

An actual, not-even-joking at this point miracle that all of them made it into the woods in time. 

Tony knew that the forest wasn't some designated safe haven or sanctuary in a video game, that the stampede of things could easily follow them in, and maybe they had made a terrible mistake, but he couldn't help feeling a burst of relief as he and Bruce practically fell into the bushes, where the other three were already crouching.

The mighty Avengers: huddled on the ground like children, fear written all over their faces as they listened to the sound of pounding footsteps, the footsteps of an army, coming closer and closer. 

Tony's hands were over the arc reactor in an attempt to stifle the circle of blue light that probably wasn't bright enough for the things to notice, but at least it was something he could do. He pressed himself against a tree trunk, hoping they were all concealed well enough in the bushes. The bushes were prickly and thorny, with who knew what insects or snakes or forest critters crawling all over them, but they were cover. They were a place to hide that wasn't out in the open. 

The thudding was getting closer--what if they'd been seen? 

Closer--what if the things knew they were here, and hiding like this was just waiting to be caught? 

Closer--please please please…

And then the footsteps thundered past the forest, turning to circle back around the graveyard-that-was-not-the-right-graveyard. 

None of them breathed a sigh of relief. Tony wasn't sure any of them were even breathing. 

Instead, they silently counted out one minute. He could see Steve's lips moving: forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty… 

No one said anything when sixty came and went, and they were all still counting. 

Two minutes… then three, and then Natasha was the first to stand up. She'd been so motionless she'd practically melted into the shadows behind the bush. 

"Either they're gone or they're watching us already, and in that case hiding here won't help," she said. 

The others started to get up. Tony immediately peered through the trees to try and catch a glimpse of the open graveyard. It was empty. No sign of the things that he didn't want to give a name to, because giving them a name meant this was real and not some crazy drug trip or Halloween-candy-induced nightmare. 

"Now what?" Clint asked. 

"Now we get the heck out of here before those things come back." Tony pulled a pricker off of his sleeve. "Do I hear any objections from the jury?" 

"Maybe if we make it out of the graveyard," Bruce suggested. "At least we could try to get back to the Tower, or--" 

"Who knows if the Tower's even there?" Clint interrupted. "If we aren't even in the same graveyard, then how do we know the rest of the world is the same?" 

"You're saying we're in some kind of alternate universe?" Surprisingly, Steve didn't seem to be mocking the idea. Look who's been catching up on the bad sci-fi of the late twentieth-early twenty-first century. 

And honestly, Tony couldn't say that the idea hadn't crossed his mind already. Unlikely as it was… those things, whatever they were, just didn't exist in the real world. At least in their world. 

"Even if," Natasha said. "Anywhere's got to be safer than trapped in here with those… " Words failed her, but no one mentioned it. The memory, the sound those things had been making as they charged toward the Avengers… 

"So we'll go left until we get to the fence," Steve decided. He looked around as though worried someone would argue with him, but everyone just peeled themselves out of their hiding places and started heading left. 

See, they were going to survive this. The graveyard couldn't be that big. They'd just cut through this forest, climb the fence, and then be back in the city. Maybe they'd grab some alternate dimension bacon pizza before they left. 

A ridiculous urge to laugh welled up in his throat. Great. Now he knew the stress was getting to him. 

If only he had the Iron Man suit with him. They could all fly out of here in a matter of seconds, and whatever those things were would be dust under the repulsors. It was basically his job to have that suit with him, why hadn't he-- 

What? Worn the suit while out ordering a pizza? 

Maybe he was being crazy. But he had a hunch that as they traipsed through the woods beside him, Steve was wishing for his shield, Clint for his bow, and Natasha for a way to contact S.H.I.E.L.D. None of them had expected this, none of them had prepared for anything beyond the usual. 

Except Bruce, obviously, but it doesn't count as being prepared if it's your own alter ego. 

What they could really use was Thor. Tony looked up at the canopy of leaves overhead as though at any moment, a hammer-wielding alien would shoot from the sky, ready to fly them all out of there and blast some lightning on the way out. 

But the leaves remained intact, and Tony didn't think Thor could pull off interdimensional rescue missions anyway. 

So they walked. Deeper and deeper into the woods they walked, no sound except for their shoes crunching against dead leaves. There was even less light in here than there was in the open graveyard… here, the moon was blocked out. 

Here, shadows were everywhere, and every hollow, every space behind a tree or half-rotted stump contained more of those things lying in wait. Tony couldn't look everywhere at once, but everywhere was a potential hiding place… 

If you're dead, you're dead, just keep going, he told himself. 

That was the only thing to do, the only thing besides giving up and curling into a ball on the ground and refusing to move. And tempting as that sounded, Tony Stark did not intend to go out that way. 

On and on and on…

Keep walking… 

They were in single file, like some morbid parody of Follow the Leader. If they were in a movie, the one in the back would get caught first, the others marching on oblivious until one by one the monsters had killed them all. 

Roll credits. 

There was more forest here than he'd thought. Maybe than any of them had thought. What if it really was endless, and endless forests were just a thing in this dimension? 

Why was the creepy forest the only option for a hiding place? And they made fun of the horror movies… "Yes, let's definitely run around in the graveyard woods, anyone who goes there refuses to talk about it afterward!" "Oh, how fascinating! Did you know that no one has ever made it out alive?" "Delightful!"

Yet here they were anyway. Maybe it was easier to mock the horror movies when you were safe on the couch with a bowl of popcorn. When you knew the people there were actors who could wash off the fake blood and go home at the end of the day. When the only "monsters" were CGI and the haunted graveyard was a set with a green screen. 

Walking, walking, walking… 

They'd been walking for about twenty minutes, maybe twenty-five--whichever it was, it felt like forever--when Steve stopped in his tracks. 

And since he was the front of the line, that meant the rest of them stopped too. 

"What is it?" Bruce asked in a hushed voice. Even that small sound was a jolt to the long stretch of silence, making Tony want to lunge across and shush him. 

Steve worked the words around before he spoke them. "I am pretty sure that we've passed this tree before," he finally said.

"I'm calling it," Tony announced, even though internally he was screaming no no no no no. "We are lost in the woods." 

Natasha studied the tree Steve meant, which was aged and gnarled so that it resembled knotted hair more than anything else. "He's right." 

"How far back did we get turned around?" Bruce asked. Natasha shrugged helplessly. 

"It's so dark, and I thought we were going straight… this was a horrible idea." The last part was said more quietly, but it was still audible. 

Now what now what now what. If they didn't know which way to go, and they weren't even sure how long they'd been walking in the wrong direction… 

"At the risk of sounding clichéd, can't we retrace our steps?" Tony asked. Maybe they should have left a trail of breadcrumbs… you know, so the things could have an appetizer before they caught and ate them. 

Words wouldn't be able to describe how eternally grateful he would be if he had access to JARVIS or the Iron Man suit or just a regular phone call, but when he checked his phone again, it was still black and lifeless. 

"I think we'd better. We've wasted enough time just standing here--" Steve broke off, frowning. "Where's Clint?" 

Usually, when someone said "Where's Clint?" the answer was "Within a ten-foot area, he's just either being so quiet everyone forgot he was there or he broke into the ventilation system," but in this case there was no ventilation system and no matter how quiet Clint was being, Natasha always knew where he was, and she was looking around just like the rest of them. 

A leaf fell on Tony's head. Instinctively, he looked up. And somehow wasn't even surprised.

"Guys, I found Clint." 

The others paused in their scan of the immediate vicinity to look at him. His head was still angled upward, so they figured it out reasonably quickly. 

Clint leaned down from the tree branch he was perched on like it was an everyday occurrence--and who knew with Clint. He offered no explanation for why he was in the tree, just cut right to "What was that noise?" 

Which was an excellent tactic for making the rest of them not question the tree, incidentally.

You know, because now they were too busy freaking out. At least Tony was. 

"Which noise?" Natasha's hand drifted to her belt again. 

"You know, the one that sounded like fingernails scraping?" 

"Well, that's never a good sign," Tony muttered. No one else heard him; they were all too busy listening. 

There was a sound, whining its way through the silent forest. He wouldn't call it a fingernail-scraping sound, though, more like a creaky door hinge being opened and shut… 

And it was coming from very, very, close by. 

"All in favor?" Bruce asked. Was he being sarcastic? 

Steve apparently didn't think so, because he parted some of the bushes and stepped forward, heading in the direction that the noise was coming from. Bruce followed, and after a moment's hesitation, so did Natasha. A rustling in the branches ahead signified that Clint was also, apparently, in favor. 

Tony stood alone in the clearing, very much not in favor, but the problem with being very much not in favor when no one had actually bothered to vote was that your opinion didn't really matter and everyone else was going to do as they pleased. Even when they really shouldn't because, hello, had they forgotten the rampaging horde that had just been chasing them? 

If the others would come back, and they could talk it out, and maybe figure out which way to go to get out of the graveyard instead of following random sounds, then--oh screw it, Tony wasn't getting left behind in this creepy-as-heck forest. 

He crashed through the undergrowth, pointy branches pulling at fabric and his feet catching on roots, until he emerged in a pocket crisscrossed by two fallen trees.

Or half-fallen trees, he realized, because though the trees in question were bent pretty much as far as they could go, their roots were still stubbornly anchored to the ground. 

As for how the trees had gotten in that position, that was obvious as soon as he saw the car half-buried in a yawning split in the bark. The remains of some long-ago accident. 

It was an old truck, bad shape, filthy. Not improved by the enormous dents to the front, the shattered windows, and the fact that half of the tires had been ripped off. 

At first his heart had leapt--a car! Mechanical! Transportation! But the longer he looked at the sad excuse for a truck, the more feeble that leap seemed. If this had ever been a drivable vehicle, it sure wasn't now. 

"I'd say that something probably died in there," Natasha said as she observed the car. She had been walking around it in a full circle, but stopped by the driver's side door. "But…" 

Oh. Oh. Oh, that was not good.

That was not fake, either. 

That was… a lot of rusted, dried, blood, and the fact that so much of it had been here so long as to have time to dry… 

"And look at this." Bruce hovered a hand over the passenger door, not touching it. "I don't know what made these scrapes, but..." 

His hand was dwarfed by them. Those long, jagged lines torn into the metal. Something had fought to break that car open. Something strong. With really sharp… oh, he didn't want to say claws.

And why the thing had been so fierce… the blood Natasha was examining was a good enough reason. 

"One of us should look inside," Steve said reluctantly. "Maybe the keys are still in the ignition, or something else is in there." 

Yeah, that's what they didn't want to find in the truck. A something else. 

Or more accurately, they didn't want a something else to find them.

"Yes, great idea!" Tony threw his hands in the air. "I dare you to go in there. Alone, too, how about! We're already doing everything else like the victims in a horror movie, so why the heck not." 

"It's just a truck," Steve said. It might have been more convincing had he not been staring at it like it was the entrance to the black lagoon. If everyone else, even Clint in the trees, hadn't been keeping their distance. 

Maybe this was their Pandora's box: to open or not to open. The truck might contain something useful (but really, did any of them other than their resident Captain Optimism believe that?) or it could contain the same something that had torn up the doors and… torn up the previous owner of the dried bloodstains. 

"I don't think we should go in there." Clint, giving his two cents from up in the tree. 

Tony pointed upward. "Maybe we should listen to him. He's technically in the safe zone up there and he still agrees with me." 

"But this might be our chance at a getaway," Natasha argued. 

They needed a tie-breaker. Tony looked at Bruce with his best pleading eyes. The scientist backed away from the truck.

"I'm not a big fan of--" Bruce waved vaguely at the truck, potentially indicating blood or scraped-up doors or Pandora's box philosophy or being the tie-breaker. Or trucks. "But whatever did all of that is probably long gone by now." 

Possibly part of the charging things. 

Steve got that steely look of determination in his eyes that usually meant Tony was about to lose an argument. "If there's anything in that car, we'd have heard it by now, or it would have heard us." 

Tony sighed. "You really think this is a good idea?" 

"It's our only idea." 

Tony and Steve shared a long look, then each walked over to one side of the car. Tony grabbed the door handle of the driver's side--it was cold and left a layer of grime on his hand--while Steve took the passenger's side door. 

"On three?" Tony asked. 

"Let's get it over with." 

Both of them heaved the doors open with a great screeching of metal that hadn't been touched in ages. Tony braced himself for something to come flying out at them, maybe even for a rotted corpse to tumble out at their feet, but the truck… the truck was empty.

The other three surged forward from where they had stood, tense. Tony felt rather than saw Natasha leaning over his shoulder to peer inside. 

The seats of the truck were just as dirty as the outside--and just as stained with substances he didn't want to think about. The steering wheel was yanked practically out of the dashboard, and the rearview mirror was in shatters. 

There were no keys helpfully waiting in the ignition, but even if there had been, they wouldn't have done any good; as he'd suspected, the car was completely inoperable. Not to mention out of gas and stuck in a tree.

Tony leaned back out. "Nothing." His voice was hollow--the trepidation had carved out a space and refused to fill it back in once it was unearned. "There's nothing in here." 

"Isn't that kind of a good thing?" Bruce offered. Natasha shook her head from behind Tony. 

Still leaning through the car, Steve clicked open the glove compartment and riffled through it, though what he hoped to find… 

"Something made a nest in there," Steve declared, hastily withdrawing his hand. Tony spotted several shiny black insects scuttling away--another good reason to get out of here. "But there was this--" he held up an empty box of matches "--and this." 

The second "this" turned out to be a crumpled piece of paper. Steve unfolded it as the others crowded around. Even Clint lowered himself down from the tree. 

The paper held one sentence--really, not even a sentence--scrawled in messy, smeared, letters.

And, well… he didn't want to consider the implications of this, but it wasn't written in ink.

Whoever had written this was desperate.

Tony read it once, then again… then another time, but the words remained the same: 

Only until sunrise. 

"Only until sunrise," Natasha read aloud. She glanced up. "I guess this person didn't make it that long." 

Heartbeats were thudding in his ears again, although this time it was less of a warning drum than a countdown clock. 

Survive until sunrise: that had to be what it meant. What the driver of this car had held onto as a last reminder--one that they had ultimately failed.

Steve, however, seemed to take it as a promise. "We only have to make it until sunrise," he said. He used his leader voice, catching the eye of every Avenger as though to add a silent promise of his own: he would get them to sunrise.

It should have felt reassuring, and maybe it would have been years ago, but now Tony knew better. Knew that no matter how confident Captain America sounded, he wasn't invincible. Knew that even the Avengers couldn't protect themselves in this place. Knew that sometimes--more than sometimes--heroes could fall.

Knew how long it was until sunrise, and knew that they had next to no chance of surviving in this graveyard that long, not with those things after them. 

"Sunrise." Steve repeated the word like it was a talisman. "Which is--" 

"--seven hours away," Tony finished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is when the monsters show up...

It was right after Tony delivered the proverbial bad news that everything went south. It was almost immediately, too, which meant that either they had been standing in one place too long, or fate was watching with a bowl of popcorn, waiting to see how the Avengers would handle this. 

Because almost as soon as Tony finished speaking, there was a horrific shrieking noise that sounded like it came from right below their feet, and the truck--or the remains of the truck--was lifted from underneath and thrown into the air.

It landed with a crash against another tree at the far side of the clearing, but Tony was not looking at the truck now.

Oh no, he was scrambling back in horror from the things that were crawling out from the space where it had been.

Because that old truck had been covering the entrance to an underground nest… and the occupants of that nest did not take kindly to being disturbed. 

The first monster to emerge, the one that had thrown the car, raised its head out from the hole slowly. Savoringly. Then hands appeared at either side of the tunnel entrance, pushing the rest of the monster up and out… 

And oh god, if this thing had ever been human… if it had ever been human, it wasn't now. 

Flakes of skin hung from desiccated bones, unnaturally long fingers--claws--uncurled from deceptively strong limbs, the pungent smell of rot spilled from gaping wounds all over its chest, a chest from which a golf-ball-sized veiny lump protruded, thumping in imitation of a heart, and the face… the face was little more than a warped skull with a paper-thin layer of skin half-peeled off, teeth like rusted knives forcing their way out of the mouth, and dead eyes, leaking bloodred eyes, with no pupil at all. 

It turned those eyes toward Tony, and a chill racked its way down his spine. He stumbled over a tree root as his mind frantically shouted at him to get away GET AWAY! 

The monster rose from the hole and stood up to its full, towering, height.

Bang! 

A bullet slammed dead center into the monster's chest, right at the throbbing heart. Tony nearly snapped his neck jerking his head toward Natasha, who was standing frozen with her gun still aimed. 

But the bullet dropped harmlessly to the ground, and the monster growled. It lurched in Natasha's direction. 

Natasha ducked the monster's first blow and twisted behind, slamming herself as hard as she could into its back, maybe trying to knock it down. It shook her off like she was a bug--or an insignificant spider--and opened its jaws to let out a piercing shriek.

That shriek seemed to be the dinner bell, because more monsters immediately began swarming out from the hole. Some crawled, some crept hunched-over, and some loomed over six or seven feet tall, but all of them had the same ghastly features… and the same intent to kill. 

The Avengers burst into action. Natasha regained her footing and managed to shut up the first monster by knocking it to the ground. Steve was encircled in a matter of minutes, but he started punching with the full force of his strength. Clint slid a few knives from his boots--airport security must love him--and began to slice up monster ribcages. 

Unfortunately for Tony, he was completely powerless as one of the monsters backed him against a tree. It opened its mouth in a hiss that dripped saliva. 

I'm dead, Tony thought. Dead. 

"Please take your mask off," he croaked, staring at the grotesque face in front of him. One last hope that this might all be a game, a trick… anything.

The monster pounced, reaching its claws for his throat, but Tony somehow managed to dodge. The claws pinned to his shoulders, pressing him into the tree trunk. There was nowhere to go.

It opened its mouth and snarled, blowing hot breath into his face that reeked of its last meal--something Tony didn't want to think about.

No weapons, no Iron Man, no JARVIS… what did he have left? 

"Uh… hungry, are you?" he tried. 

The only response was a low growl. 

"Understandable. See, I'd love to let you eat me. Honest. But, ah, you see this here? It's an arc reactor. I'm basically full of metal and I'm sure you wouldn't like that going through your digestive system." 

The monster huffed. Maybe it was used to victims screaming before they were squished into teeny little pieces. 

Tony continued, letting the wheel of nonsense that was his brain spin out words at random, anything to buy him time. "You know there's a pizza place across the street, right? You'd probably like pizza--or, er, if that's not your thing, there's plenty of humans there too. Delicious… delicious humans. Oh yeah, I'm totally into cannibalism. So, there's really no need to--" 

The monster lost its patience and launched itself forward. Teeth as sharp as daggers plunged toward Tony's face. 

Get down get down get down--

He was on the ground, he was scrabbling to get up again, oh god, what could he do, he was supposed to be a genius, supposed to be Iron Man, but he didn't have the suit-- 

His fingers closed around a chunk of rock. It would have to do. 

The monster pressed a rotting foot into his back, claws digging into him. Tony stifled a groan of pain and lobbed the rock at the monster as hard as he could.

SMACK.

Tony shoved the monster's foot off and got to his feet, wondering how fast he could scale a tree, when Steve appeared, tackling the monster to the ground until it stopped fighting back. 

Tony stared wide-eyed and tried to catch his breath. "I guess I owe you one, Cap." 

"Yeah, don't mention it," Steve grunted. There was a line of red trickling from his ear to his neck. Coming from what looked disturbingly like… teeth marks. 

Steve noticed Tony's disgusted look. "They like blood, apparently--don't let their mouths near you if you can help it." 

"Vampires aren't real, though." A stupid thing to say; nothing about that night should have been real. Steve just nodded like yeah, well… and then rejoined the fight. 

Tony dashed behind a tree, scanning the surroundings frantically for something, anything, that he could use as a weapon. There was nothing but forest and bushes and leaves and that truck… he briefly considered the truck, but he wasn't exactly strong enough to go ripping pieces off with his bare hands. 

Suddenly the branches above him began to shake violently, the sounds of a fight coming from up above. Shrieking, both agonized and furious, mixed with the desperate sounds of someone battling for their life.

The monsters could climb. And there was only one reason why they would choose to do so now.

Clint, was all Tony had time to think before a human figure was thrown from the treetops, landing in front of him with a sickening crunch.

He had a moment of what-if-what-if-what-if, but then Clint shifted, and he felt a wave of relief. 

The archer was conscious but bruised all over, and from the way he blinked at Tony, it was fairly reasonable to assume he'd gotten hit on the head. As falling from a tree would tend to do. 

Clint shifted again, dislodging the few remaining shreds of his black hoodie. Underneath, red stains bloomed on his white shirt where the monsters had torn through. 

"For a hallucination, those claws are no joke," Clint groaned, still flat on his back. 

Tony cast a look overhead to make sure no more monsters were going to drop onto their heads, and then knelt by Clint's side. "I'm beginning to think this isn't a hallucination." 

"Mmmmm…" Clint's eyes drifted shut for a split second before opening again. Were they dilated? It was too dark to tell. "What gave you that idea?" 

"Normally, my hallucinations don't include taking off your clothes," Tony said, tossing the shreds of hoodie to the side and peering at the bloodstains peppering Clint's back. None looked life-threatening, he hoped. 

Even if it was, he couldn't exactly sit here and wrap bandages. There was no guarantee how long the other Avengers would be able to hold off the monsters, and he and Clint had been open targets for long enough. 

"Can you stand up?" 

That did the trick; if there was one thing Tony could rely on, it was the relentless self-sufficiency of injured superheroes. Clint braced an arm underneath him and started to rise to his feet, but the second he tried to move the other arm-- 

"Ooooooookay, I see, I see!" He never wanted to see a limb in that position again, but he bravely refrained from throwing up and forced his gaze back to Clint. "I… don't think your arm is supposed to bend that way." 

"No, sh--" Clint winced and held the arm still. "I've broken bones a hundred times, I'll be fine." 

Not if we get eaten by monsters, Tony thought, but it was probably better to keep that to himself. He let Clint sling his good arm over his shoulder and the two of them straggled away--who cared where, just away from those monsters, just out of this nightmare. 

Clint stumbled, leaning harder against Tony, who staggered under the weight. Yeah, they wouldn't get far like this, not while Clint was injured… and Tony was many things, but he was no doctor. 

"Where the heck is Bruce when you need him?" he muttered under his breath.

Clint pointed weakly in the direction of the fight. "Think he let the other guy take the reins." Sure enough, a familiar bellow--nothing like the ear-splitting cries of the monsters--was echoing from the clearing. 

"Tony, listen. Listen." 

Tony barely registered the sound of his name. His own breathing was thick in his ears, and he had stopped moving. Clint was halfway to being dead weight in his arms, and there was nowhere to go that would be safe… 

"Hey!" Clint barked. Tony focused. "I don't think we should go running off into the woods. For one thing, I literally can't, and we can't get separated from the rest of the team." 

"So what? We stand here and wait for those things to find us?" 

"If we can find a secure spot--" 

"Nowhere is secure in this place!" His voice arced up in volume. 

He and Clint both froze. 

Waited for the monsters to come pouring out of the trees, to find them and rip the flesh from their bodies. 

Instead, the woods were silent.

That was either more good than he had dared to hope, or very, very, b--

"Tony? Is that you over there?" 

Tony had never been so happy to hear Captain America. "Yeah, we're here, me and Barton!" he called back. He let Clint lean on him for support again, and the two of them trampled through the bushes back to the clearing.

The clearing where Steve and Natasha were waiting, tired but alive, with not a monster in sight, and it would have been triumphant if it hadn't been for… 

"Is that really red syrup?" Clint asked in a wavering voice, breaking away from Tony and limping toward Natasha. "Please tell me it's syrup." 

Natasha shook her head, the liquid that was not red syrup dripping from her curls. 

Because both she and Steve, the wrecked car, the whole clearing… all of it was bathed in that red, like it had been the site of a paintball game with only one color. 

So much blood had to be fake. There was no way so much could exist in a place, that it could be this vivid, this… this bright. 

Steve toed at something on the ground, and that's when Tony noticed the bodies of the monsters in various dismembered positions all around the entrance to their nest. Just as gruesome as they had been while alive, except for one thing: the throbbing bulges in their chests that had served as hearts were all burst like cherry tomatoes--only instead of splattering juice… 

Tony had to stop himself from gagging. He'd been in battles before, this wasn't different… but the Iron Man armor had always protected him from this, a bubble separating him from the mess. 

How was it possible that one heart could hold so much blood? 

"And this is why you shouldn't screw with the laws of nature," he said to himself. "Guess I'll file that one away." 

Fighting revulsion, he bent down to one of the bodies.

"Please don't touch the human remains," Natasha called out from behind him. 

Without looking at her, Tony replied, "These aren't human remains. Maybe they never were."

Natasha went quiet, and Tony forced himself to study the body of the monster in front of him. It was definitely dead, even though it wasn't apparent at first from what; its head lolled from the snapped spine, the pupil-less eyes lifeless. 

And the imprint of a huge fist in its chest. 

Tony wiped his expression blank and stood back up. "Where is he, then?" he asked, interrupting Steve and Natasha as they debated how best to handle Clint's broken arm. 

Steve pointed behind him. "He stomped over there a few minutes ago… if he's not already transformed back, he's gotta be in the process." 

Tony nodded and picked his way in the direction that Steve had indicated. He fought through the bushes for a few minutes before discovering the path of trampled-down undergrowth… like it had been crushed by something very big. Something that enjoyed smashing. 

Sure enough, about twenty steps away from the clearing, the Hulk was nestled in a web of thick tree roots in a slight depression in the ground.

Tony approached slowly. The Hulk had never held any particular animosity toward him (and certainly never punched him across a helicarrier like he'd done to Thor) but this soon after a fight with screeching monsters, who knew what the green guy's emotional state would be. 

As he swung his legs over a bumpy root, though, he noticed the Hulk's form beginning to shrink.

Tony's feet hit the ground as the last vestiges of green leached from skin, and Bruce Banner emerged with a gasp. 

"Considerate of him to leave the pants this time," Tony observed. 

Bruce looked down at himself. "Yeah, I guess he… " He stopped. Tensed up. "Tony." 

Tony knew what was going through Bruce's mind and came closer--an arm's length away, but careful not to touch. They'd established this routine--really, all the Avengers had--ever since New York. Just like everyone was careful not to mention the word portal around Tony, or anything about Loki in front of Clint. It was how they dealt--how they had to. 

"Yes?" 

"There's blood--there's so much blood--all over--" Bruce held his hands in front of him as though he could will the stains away by staring at them hard enough. 

"Monster blood only, I promise." Tony met his eyes. "I guarantee the other guy's the reason all of us weren't eaten by those things. Don't tell Cap I said that, though," he added. "You'll steal his thunder." 

Bruce relaxed a marginal amount as they entered the familiar territory. "I imagine that would be a disaster… the combined egos of the team won't cancel out." 

"You wound me." 

"Just stating an observation." 

"Let's get back to the others before my self-esteem withers completely." 

"I'm always in the mood for a leisurely stroll." 

Tony and Bruce clambered back over the tree roots and made their way through the Hulk-made path to the clearing. Clint was sitting on a stump, his broken arm in a sling cobbled together out of various ripped clothing items. Natasha had used one of the leftover strips to tie her hair back--in a ponytail that was thankfully no longer dripping monster blood. 

Bruce stopped short at the sight of the blood-soaked clearing. "That's… disgusting," he finally pronounced.

Natasha offered a shrug, messing with a knot on Clint's sling. "We couldn't exactly request a stain-free attack." 

"What would the horror movie teens say," Clint mused. "'I can't stand blood'?" 

Steve appeared from behind a tree just in time to hear the last sentence. He looked from Clint to the mess around them, nonplussed.

"... good thing it's everywhere…" 

Bruce opened his mouth to explain that Clint hadn't been serious, but Tony shook his head at him.

"Just let him," he mouthed. Bruce rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything, and Steve settled himself against the tree, running his finger over the empty box of matches they'd discovered in the car. 

Clint fidgeted on the stump. "Are you done yet?" 

"Don't worry, you just need to sit still for a few more minutes and then I'll give you a lollipop," Natasha said, picking up another strip of what used to be Clint's hoodie before the monsters decided they didn't like it. 

Between them and the Hulk, it was a wonder half the team was as clothed as they were. 

"Get it off me, I can handle it," Clint persisted. "Like in Belo Horizonte, remember?" 

"I'd rather not." Natasha pulled the fabric tight. "All right, how does it feel?" 

Clint jumped to his feet, barely touching the sling-wrapped arm, but otherwise showing no sign that he'd just been knocked out of a tree. "Fine, fine. We need to move." 

"And for the record, I vote we don't follow any more suspicious noises," Tony spoke up. 

"Then which direction do we go?" Bruce asked. 

Tony felt like none of them meant to, but they somehow all ended up looking at Steve, who had slipped the box back into his pocket. Maybe it was unfair of them to always expect Steve to be the leader… but god knew none of the rest of them could do it. Natasha and Clint were agents, they reported to someone whether it was Steve or Fury; Bruce may have been a genius, but he wasn't cut for giving orders; Thor was never around enough to be a logical option; and the idea of Tony leading the Avengers? Never in a million years. 

So in retrospect, even though one could argue that what happened next could easily have been avoided by someone else taking charge… they'd all made the decision of who they were listening to. 

And if it turned out they'd put their faith in the wrong person, it may have been their own darn fault, but it was also natural. 

The Avengers were a team, for better or worse, and they'd adapted to the dynamic long ago.

Which was why, when they all looked at Steve, and Steve said, "Is that a light over there?"...

… they listened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

Tony didn't know how long they'd been in the graveyard. 

Long.

Long enough to hate the sound of feet crunching dead leaves, to hate constantly pulling aside dangling branches only to get thwacked with them a few seconds later, to hate the ever-present fear that refused to dial down, like every part of his body was set to fight-or-flight mode ever since the monsters had appeared.

Long enough to wonder why no more monsters had appeared--and then to scold himself for wondering, because with their luck, more would drop from the trees or pop up from the ground any second. 

Long enough for his brain to decide that if it spent any longer spinning situations in which the monsters would return and attack, it would go insane, so he'd started trying to focus on mundane thoughts instead as they slogged through the forest. 

Thoughts like whether Pepper's meeting was over yet, improvements he could add to the Iron Man suit (what if he could key it to himself without using the homing beacons?), and the occasional random pondering.

Such as: there is actually a difference between the word "cemetery" and the word "graveyard." 

Both are burial grounds, but a graveyard is specifically a burial ground that is part of a churchyard. Cemeteries were created separately once graveyards started running out of room, but they had no affiliation with a church. Or something like that. Honestly, he had no idea where he'd ever found this information.

But they'd been referring to this place as a graveyard consistently since they'd… arrived, for lack of a better word, and maybe it didn't mean anything, but maybe it did. 

He'd turned it over as they walked and walked and walked through the forest after Steve's "light," and when they finally reached the edge--after what was almost certainly hours--it turned out he was right.

The woods ended at the top of a hill, looking down into a slight decline that was spotted with tombstones. 

And a small white church with glowing windows. 

The Avengers stood at the top of the hill, dirty, bruised, and exhausted--Tony felt he could speak for all of them in the last one, except maybe Natasha, who he'd swear sometimes was superhuman--and stared down at the church with a mixture of distrust and thoughtfulness. 

"There's your light, Cap," Tony finally said. "What's your call?" 

Steve scrubbed his free hand across his forehead. The other was supporting Clint, who had gradually gotten slower and slower as they continued to walk, to the point where he'd barely argued when Steve offered to help. "Do you want to know just so you can argue about how unsafe it is? Because I think if we're going to compare recklessness--" 

"--says the man who crashed a plane in the Arctic Ocean--" 

"Tony--" 

"--but maybe you could give me the benefit of the doubt once in a while, because I actually do agree with you this time. Shocking, I know." 

Steve didn't reply, though it didn't look like it was for lack of inspiration. Tony would honestly pay to hear the captain forget about restraint and let loose with what he was really thinking during a mission sometimes. He had a feeling it wouldn't jibe too well with the whole "freedom and righteousness" slogans from the 1940s films. 

"Hold up," Bruce said. "Are you two actually arguing about the fact that you're not arguing right now?" 

Tony… couldn't actually defend against that. 

Huh. That's a first. 

"And Fury wondered why the idea for the Avengers didn't get approved for so long," Natasha muttered. She started down the hill, maneuvering around errant tombstones. 

"Nat?" 

Without turning around, she called back over her shoulder: "Someone around here has to make a decision, and our options are that church or back in the woods!" 

"I guess that decides it." Bruce shot a look at Tony and Steve before starting to follow Natasha down the hill, and Tony decided he did not like the feeling that he was being judged by someone in barely-held-together clothes and deserved it. 

He and Steve were left at the top of the hill, Steve still hoisting Clint. They watched the other two make their way down toward the church.

"I should--" Steve started.

"--yeah." Tony looked at Steve and then away again. "Good idea." 

"As long as we're in agreement." 

"Yes." 

"Then let's go." 

"I can help with Barton if you--" 

"Nah, I got him." 

"All righty." 

"Did you just say 'all righty'?" 

"Is there a problem with it?" 

"I wouldn't have expected it from Tony Stark." 

"In that case, I'm disappointed in you." 

They tramped down the hill, which was steeper than it had looked from the top. Why the land developers had thought this hill was a good place to dig a bunch of graves was a mystery. Then again, who knew if this hill was even there in the real world, or if it was another twisted aspect of this place.

The church sat invitingly ahead, the twinkling lights from the windows the only source of light in the wide graveyard--besides the pale moon, which was mostly hidden by clouds anyway. 

Yes, the thought had crossed Tony's mind that it could be a trap--the overconfident heroes enter a so-called sanctuary only to find out that surprise! It was the monsters' lair all along--but one look around at his teammates, at the blood and broken limbs and probability of collapse, and he knew they needed to stop somewhere. 

So down the hill they went. 

And it all seemed normal at first. A peaceful, quiet, night. The monsters were dead, weren't they? What could be the danger? 

But if they were safe, then what was that… shaking? 

Tony stopped in his tracks. No, he wasn't imagining it. 

There it was again.

A shudder, resonating from far below the ground. 

"Do you feel that--" Steve whispered, then cut himself off as another tremor rocked the earth under their feet.

Another. Another. Another. Increasing now, coming faster and faster, and now the whole graveyard seemed to be the site of an earthquake--or something even more malevolent than a force of nature.

"What's going on?" Clint asked from where he slumped against Steve's side. The captain was trying his best to hold him upright, but as the shaking knocked him back and forth, Clint was getting knocked about as well. 

Tony was about to offer up a sarcastic comment, but then he looked down and his throat went dry. 

"Run, now," he said, and the seriousness in his voice must have been so deadly that not even Steve questioned him, simply heaving Clint upward and dashing for the church. 

Tony wasn't far behind, racing as fast as he could, because what he had just seen was nothing other than skeletal hands clawing their way out of the ground. 

And the fact that the whole hill was shaking from the force meant that there were… a lot of monsters digging up from the grave. 

So, yes. Running. 

Natasha and Bruce must have seen it too, because both of them were in a dead sprint for the church doors. Tony saw them look over their shoulders a couple times--making sure the others were keeping up. Their head start, however, meant they got to the doors a lot sooner. 

Tony could see Natasha pause, and internally cursed the we're-a-team-we-die-together mentality, but Bruce apparently said something to her and the two of them hurried inside. 

They left the door open, though. Stupid team loyalty. Once the monsters were fully out of the ground, they could get in just as easily as Tony, Steve, and Clint. 

He gritted his teeth and kept running, ignoring the protests of various body parts. It was the only thing he could do.

Even with Clint, Steve was fast, and it took everything in him for Tony to keep relatively close behind him. The relentless pounding of the ground beneath them didn't help.

They reached the church doors, practically skidding inside, and Tony slammed the door shut just as the torso of a monster emerged from a newly dug hole. 

Their gasping breaths echoed in the arched room, which was small but empty except for the rows of benches and a raised platform at the front. The light came from electroliers hanging from the ceiling. And granted, it had been a while since Tony had set foot in a church, but it did seem odd that the windows were regular instead of stained glass. 

At the moment, though, the windows could be made of HammerTech advertisements and he'd rather be here than outside. 

Clint staggered to a wall and slid down it carefully, allowing a brief moment to close his eyes. 

There was a screeching noise, and Tony whipped his head around, but it was Steve dragging benches in front of the doors. 

"Barricade," was the only explanation given. He stacked up five more benches before he was apparently satisfied. 

And just in time, too--barely seconds after the last bench had been placed, the doors shook like a battering ram was trying to get in. 

"I guess the monsters are out of the ground now," Tony said, his voice surprisingly steady. 

Another boom, the dozens and dozens of powerful fists slamming into the door. 

Clint struggled to get back up. It looked like it was costing his last bit of energy to speak. "Why are we just… staring at the doors we should… move where're… Nat and Banner?" 

"There's a door over there," Tony said. "Probably a storage room or bathroom or something." 

The front doors shook again. They were made of wood and who knew how old--the odds were not good on how long they would last. 

"Whatever it is, it sounds like an excellent idea." Steve bent down to help Clint up, and all three of them hurried between the pews for the little door. There was a frightening moment when it didn't open, but Tony yanked harder and it came unstuck.

The little door led to a cramped, dingy, stairwell, with one staircase going up and one going down. There was no sign of Natasha or Bruce--or which staircase they'd taken. 

The sound of splintering wood came from the main room, and Tony decided they didn't have time to debate. He hurtled down the stairs to the basement, Steve and Clint right beside him. 

The stairs were a tight circle, spiraling down and down, and there was no light anywhere beside the blue circle on Tony's chest, and the voice in his head urged him to go faster, get down there, HIDE, because the monsters were breaking down the door-- 

And then the stairs ended abruptly, and Tony couldn't stop himself in time, and he was falling-- 

Down and--

\--down and-- 

\--down into a black pit. 

*************************

Natasha knew they shouldn't have split up. 

It had been the panic thinking, not her brain, and she'd cursed herself a million times for it already, but it still remained that she wouldn't get to curse a million times more, because now they were going to die, and because of their panic they were going to die apart. 

She'd always known her life expectancy wasn't promising--what else could you expect from someone with her skill set, with her particular job and history?--and that becoming an Avenger who was expected to save the world every Tuesday hadn't improved those odds, but no matter how many times she looked death in the face, she still didn't embrace the possibility. Refused to. 

Now it was very real. And what had she done? Left three members of her team behind. 

They'll catch up, she told herself. Right now, you need to focus.

She and Bruce had discovered the stairwell in the side of the church and raced upstairs, to a small alcove whose purpose she frankly couldn't figure out, but it was safe… for now.

Pressed against the wall, she could hear the banging on the front doors downstairs. The doors that they'd left open--which meant-- 

"The others got inside," she breathed. "They closed the doors." 

Bruce nodded. "Then they'll be up here soon… hopefully." 

"Your reassurances need some work." 

"Why do you think I'm not a medical doctor? Terrible bedside manner." 

"Well, let's just hope they thought of barricading the doors with something. I don't think they'll hold up long against those things." 

"Are you scared?" The words were soft. Natasha turned to look at him. 

"Nope, I'm not scared." Sometimes lies told more than truth. "Are you?" 

"Terrified." 

Natasha didn't answer for a moment. Downstairs, the doors shook again. Every hit weakening them a little more. 

"We're all gonna make it through this," she finally said. "Only till sunrise, remember?" 

The doors quaked with another massive boom, so loudly that Natasha couldn't hear what Bruce said next.

And then the doors splintered into pieces, and none of that mattered anymore.

******************  
Tony knew that his leg was broken as soon as he opened his eyes. He'd broken bones before, but--aaaaaah, god, why did it hurt so much? 

"Tony!" Steve's voice. Hearing was just about the only sense left to him now, since the church basement was pitch black and he didn't particularly enjoy what he was getting in the smell and touch department. 

"Tony," Steve said again, and Tony felt someone kneel down beside him. Hands hover over his body.

"Don't touch me," he burst out. His leg was on fire, on fire, not supposed to be like this, in that position… 

"I didn't." There was a rustling noise, and Steve's voice got farther away. "Clint, I think he's broken a leg."

A groan from a voice to his left. "That's… wonderful…" A thud. 

"Clint?" Steve again, more frantic. "Barton, come on, answer me." 

The basement was quiet. The basement was quiet, but upstairs the banging was getting louder, and the whole building was shaking-- 

Was Tony shaking too, or was it the room around him? 

He didn't know, he didn't know anything: why his head was ringing like a gong, why everything seemed to be fuzzing and staticking in and out, why the pain in his leg wouldn't stop… 

"Barton!" Steve shouted. The sound of shoes squealing on hard cement. Stairs creaking--up up up. No--back down again. Here he was again. 

There was a mighty crash from upstairs. Then shrieking--lots of shrieking. Steve swore. That meant something bad was happening, right? It had to be bad if Captain America was swearing. 

What bad thing had happened, and why did it have to be so loud when Tony's head was splitting open?

Oh yeah--the monsters. They must have broken down the door. Gotten into the church. 

Tony frowned. He was in the church. He didn't want to be in a church with monsters. 

Had they already eaten Natasha and Bruce? He hoped not. He hoped they were safe. Because there was nowhere to hide in this dark basement.

They hadn't eaten Steve, though; Steve was still here. Still trying to get Clint to wake up. Why was Clint sleeping? 

A thought edged its way through the boiling lava that had become his brain. Steve was in danger now, and he couldn't get both Clint and Tony to safety. 

"Please don't leave me here…" he moaned, and for a moment he wasn't sure if he'd actually spoken the words. Tony Stark wasn't this pitiful, was he? 

Steve was leaning over him again. "I'm not going to leave you here, Tony. We're all gonna make it out. We only have to survive here until sunlight, remember? Can you hear me?" His tone was growing more and more desperate.

Tony wanted to say that, yes, he could hear him. He could hear the monsters swarming through the main room of the church upstairs. He could hear Clint's labored breathing a few feet away. 

And he did remember that they only had to survive until sunrise. Only until sunrise. 

Tony still didn't know how long they'd been in the graveyard.

But as the monsters' shrieks echoed through the stairwell, he had the feeling it wouldn't be for much longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! (Almost done!)


	7. Chapter 7

They would have died right then and there if it wasn't for Steve. Tony knew this with absolute certainty. 

Once the monsters began pouring down the stairs, he and Clint would have been dead if they'd been alone. Even as the monsters hissed and scraped their claws inches from Clint's limp body, he remained out cold, and as for Tony, he could barely sit up without wanting to scream, though the pain in his head had receded slightly. 

Yeah, they would have been absolutely dead, if Steve hadn't burst from the back of the basement and slammed something metal and circular into the nearest monster's throat. 

It shrieked, spurting jets of too-bright blood, and the other monsters backed up an inch, scuttling along the walls. 

Steve yanked out the metal, which turned out to be the lid of some kind of container. Now being repurposed as the shield for a low-budget Captain America. 

"Barton," Tony choked as Steve dashed over to him. Steve hesitated only for the briefest second as Tony struggled to get up, but then reached down and pulled the unconscious Clint in a fireman's carry. 

Tony had to get up--had to--or they were going to die--but his leg was broken and pain was shooting up every nerve ending he had-- 

But the monsters were impatient. One lunged forward, swiping at Tony's head. He ducked, but felt the rake of talons across one cheek. 

Up--get up! 

Tony lurched up and immediately wanted to pass out. The room… the room was stars and fuzzy blackness, and his leg was shaking so hard it might as well detach… 

The monsters gave another shriek and rushed them as one, the bite of dozens of sharp claws piercing through his skin, he was going to fall and they were going to swarm over him like vultures to a carcass-- 

Something grabbed him. Blind in the dark, Tony tried to fight it off, but Steve shouted "It's me, come on!" and dragged him toward the stairs. Monsters clamored behind them every step of the way. 

Steve's makeshift shield clattered to the floor as he somehow--how?--jumped up to the bottom stair while lifting both Tony and Clint. 

Up the stairs they ran--stumbled--almost fell, at every turn breaking through a horde of monsters simply because Steve wasn't going to stop. 

A sharp turn--sharper teeth looming out of the stairwell, coming right for his face--

And up--up more stairs, up and up and now the wood under his feet was slick and slippery-- 

"What's that?" His voice slurred without him meaning to. 

"You don't want to know," Steve said in between breaths. "Don't look." 

Monsters pounded behind them, and yet there were still more stairs, why were they going up, weren't they going to be cornered-- 

And then they emerged into a small alcove at the top of the stairs, and Natasha and Bruce were there, and Natasha almost tackled them before she realized who it was. 

"I'd say I'm glad you're alive, but that might jinx us," she said, taking in the unconscious Clint and getting-there Tony. 

"Same to you." Steve turned to the door behind them and pushed it closed, formidable super-soldier strength straining against all the monsters that had followed them up the stairs. 

Tony made a move to help, but his leg decided it was not having it, and he buckled to the floor. 

The very wet, red, floor. He stared at Natasha. 

"Not all of it was me," she explained. Her gun was still clutched in her hand, but more loosely than before, and Tony guessed she was out of bullets. "The other guy tried to come out practically as soon as the monsters got up here, but… it's a small space." 

Tony noticed, for the first time, that Bruce was also unconscious. He'd been too preoccupied with the blankness that kept tugging at the edges of his vision to take in the surroundings. 

He blinked, hard, to anchor himself. "So I'm the muscle now?" 

Natasha's mouth quirked the tiniest bit, but it vanished in an instant when Steve was nearly thrown off the door by the force of the monsters on the other side of it. 

Sweat was running down Steve's face. "I don't know how much longer--" 

"There's got to be another way out." Tony stared around the room, but Natasha was right: it was a small space. With the five Avengers crammed inside it, there wasn't room for anything else.

Natasha gasped. "Up there!" She jumped, and Tony saw what she meant--a trapdoor in the ceiling. It blended almost perfectly in with the white boards; you'd probably never notice it if you weren't a trained spy. 

"I can't believe I didn't notice--" Natasha cut herself off as Steve again braced his feet against the slippery floor. She jumped again, and the ceiling was low enough that she could push it up. 

The trapdoor opened with a thunk, and night air flooded the alcove. Stars glimmered above.

"Go--" Steve groaned. 

"But do you dare me?" Natasha asked sarcastically as she hefted Clint--unbelievable already that she could do that, but how she would get him through the trapdoor-- 

But he'd forgotten to never underestimate the Black Widow, and once Natasha had found a foothold in the side of the wall, she could shove Clint up and out like she was pushing a child on a swing. 

Bruce next, and Steve was still managing to hold the door… 

"I got it," Tony said quickly as Natasha turned to him. "You should make sure those two don't fall off the roof." 

Natasha thankfully didn't argue, even though Steve gave him the death glare, and hurtled herself up through the trapdoor in a blink. 

Now was the hard part. Tony found the footholds in the wall with some difficulty--his foot was having trouble holding anything at the moment--and slowly, agonizingly, pulled himself upward. 

"Cap, get up there," he said as he moved up what felt like another half inch. 

"Not happening, Stark." 

"Can you quit with the noble sticking-together thing for ten seconds? If you don't get up there, you're dead!" 

"So are you, maybe stop talking and get yourself up there!" 

Steve was trembling with the effort of keeping the door shut against the monsters, but Tony could tell that he wasn't going to budge.

The only way to get Steve through that trapdoor was to get through it himself.

"Fine," he muttered as he forced himself upwards. Every muscle throbbed in pain, and his leg might as well have been dunked in acid. "I can… I can do that… jus'watch…" 

Bang, bang, bang, against the door--

The trapdoor was within finger's grasp-- 

And with the last of his effort, and a barely-audible noise that sounded like "...'llshowyouRogers--" Tony heaved himself through the trapdoor and onto the roof. 

For a moment, all he could do was lay there on his back, taking gulps of night air, as his body tried to convince him why passing out would be a good idea. 

And then Steve was there, and the monsters exploded into the alcove below, and Steve jumped out but the monsters could jump too-- 

Tony lunged for the trapdoor and slammed it shut just after Steve rolled out onto the roof. Quite a few monster fingers were sliced off, too, twitching and bleeding like worms. 

"You guys made it."

Natasha was crouching a few feet away beside the still-unresponsive Clint and Bruce, who she had dragged to the flattest part of the church roof so they wouldn't fall off. Her tone had been scrubbed of all relief, and it took only a heartbeat for Tony to figure out why.

The church was an island in a sea of monsters.

Easily thousands of them had clawed their way up out of the ground--out of the graves--and had surrounded the church in a clamoring mass that demanded to be fed. 

And more still pounded on the closed trapdoor. Steve was standing on it now, but it wouldn't matter. 

They hadn't made it. There was nowhere to go, and any minute the monsters would-- 

A triumphant screech erupted from a cluster closest to their side of the church. The five of them had been spotted. 

Like insects, the monsters began to swarm up the side of the building. Their claws cut into the wood like it was butter, and Tony knew it would be only be seconds before they were cutting into his teammates. Those gaping maws came closer and closer-- 

"Well," he said. He hadn't been planning on it--rarely did he plan the things that came out of his mouth, so he guessed his last words were no different. "Nice Avenging with you all." 

"It's not so bad, you know," Natasha said. Her gun was still out--ready for a last stand. 

Steve stood positioned for a fight as well, but he looked small without the shield. "I just never thought…" He shook his head. "Only until sunrise." 

"Guess we'll never know how close we were," Tony said. 

The first of the monsters reached the edge of the roof and pulled itself up. More climbed from every side, every corner. Endless snapping jaws, endless talons ready to rip them apart. 

Tony wondered if he should close his eyes. People always seemed to do that when they were about to die. But why bother… when this was the last time you were ever going to see? 

The Avengers circled together on the roof. 

And then the golden light of sunrise appeared on the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This is the last chapter, I'm just going to add a little epilogue.


	8. Epilogue

Tony technically wasn't supposed to be in Avengers Tower, but since when did he care about what he was supposed to be doing? 

Yes, Pepper would probably definitely be angry ("You broke your leg being chased by zombie-things, Tony, you're not leaving that bed until the doctors say so,") but she wasn't there at the moment, according to JARVIS, so she didn't have to find out. 

Besides, after all that, he just wanted to go home. And not his house in California. Home.

Where the Avengers still hadn't had their ridiculously sentimental team-building Halloween. 

He stepped into the living room to discover that the others had already arrived. Had been arrived for a while, judging by the movie already set to menu on the TV screen and the nearly-empty snack bowls.

"I can't believe it," he said. "I try to be fashionably late, and you people eat all the food." 

"It is Halloween," Natasha announced from her perch on the top of the couch. Leaned against the backrest beneath her was Clint, ignoring doctor's orders as much as Tony--although S.H.I.E.L.D. had probably slapped a cast on him and handed him a new mission--and probably responsible for a decent chunk of the eaten snacks. "As such, we're allowed to eat all the candy we want." 

"It's November f--" Tony started, but Bruce shook his head furiously.

"Just go with it," he mouthed. 

Tony shrugged and carefully--this whole "cast" thing was harder than it looked--maneuvered his way to the other couch, unoccupied except for the star-spangled man himself. Who was definitely responsible for a significant amount of snack-eating. 

"How're you holding up?" Steve asked. When Tony didn't answer at first, he clarified: "The leg." 

"Some assembly required," Tony answered. "Not important, though. What are we watching?" 

"We're waiting for Thor." 

"I thought he couldn't make it?" 

"Not in time for Halloween, but since it's technically Nov--" 

Bruce buried his head in his hands as Natasha tossed a pillow at Steve. There wasn't any real force in it, but Steve clutched it against his chest anyway.

"Sorry, I forgot!" 

Tony laughed. "My self-preservation might need this, so I'd just like to state for the record 'Happy Halloween' everybody, October thirty-first, most-definitely-in-the-month-of-October-occurring-holiday." 

He understood where Natasha was coming from. They all seemed to be in unequivocal agreement that their first Halloween together as a team had… not gone well. And with all the craziness that happened in their lives every other week, who knew if they'd have another one. 

Sometimes you needed a harmless do-over. 

(Harmless besides pillowy projectiles for Steve, of course). 

"Well, since apparently certain people ate all the snacks," Tony said. "We're definitely going to need more when the thunder man gets here, so how do you guys feel about pizza?" 

The team made noises of assent.

"But, ah--delivered, this time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made it this far, thank you for reading! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
